I’m not a little girl anymore and—”
“Thank God.”
She ignored his muttered interruption. “And none of the Cains have power over me anymore. I’ve made sure of that.”
Of course, that was a bald-faced lie, because if he found out about the money, then he most certainly would have power over her—a lot of it.
She pushed past him, even though it meant brushing her chest against his, even though it made heat stir in her belly and her nipples tighten against the cloth of her bra.
She was three steps down the hall when he asked, “Just how sure about that are you?”
She kept walking.
Ten steps later he said, “How’s that theater camp of yours?”
Her steps slowed, even as her heart rate picked up. He didn’t know what he was talking about. He couldn’t. He must just be guessing based on what she’d said earlier.
“The Fairyland Theater or something, isn’t it?”
Damn it!
She stopped, pressing her eyes closed. If he’d really been guessing, he wouldn’t have come so close.
She turned around to glare at him. “The Woodland Theater.”
Dalton, damn him, stood right where she’d left him, hands in his pockets, smirk on his face.
It took a great deal of restraint—restraint she would not have had just a few years ago—not to stalk down the hall and slap that smile off his face. She was not a woman of violence, but it had been a trying day.
“Cut to the chase, and stop wasting my time. What exactly do you know about the Woodland Theater?”
“I know it’s your pet project. It’s the class you teach after school. I know you spend two hours every day after normal school hours running this enrichment program and that it’s mostly underprivileged kids—some who are scholarship kids here at the school, others who are bused in from other neighborhoods. Thirty kids total. And I know the program is funded entirely by donations.”
He knew more than she wished he did.
True, not all of his information was correct—it was thirty-two kids, and nearly half the kids were not, strictly speaking, “underprivileged.” Though that was a term she had problems with. All of the kids in her program had a hard time of it. She wasn’t sure the emotionally neglected kids from wealthy families had it any better off than the poor kids.
“I see you did your research,” she said flatly. Sure, of all the secret knowledge he could have, she should probably be glad this was it. On the other hand, Woodland was hers. She didn’t want his sticky Cain fingers anywhere near it.
Dalton’s smirk twisted into a smile but not a pleasant one. “Did you really expect any less of me?”
“No.” She’d just been blindsided, because he’d stuck his finger in a different pot than one she’d been expecting. “Of course I’m not surprised. This is what Cains do, isn’t it? You find someone’s weakness and exploit it.”
For just an instant, Dalton’s smile faltered. “Maybe I don’t want to be that kind of Cain.”
“Well, then, maybe you shouldn’t be threatening my theater program.”
“Maybe I’m not.” He stepped away from her classroom door, letting it close behind him as he walked toward her. “I don’t think the Woodland Theater program is your weakness. It seems like a great program. Exactly the kind of thing I’d expect you to be involved in.”
She eyed him warily. “And…”
“And it should continue. I’m sure finding funding is difficult in this economic climate.”
“So you are threatening me.”
“Not at all. Think of it as promising. If you help me, I can make sure your afterschool program has enough funding for years.”
“Aah. So you’re not threatening. You’re bribing.”
“Exactly.”
“How much money are you talking about?”
“How much do you need?”
“I’m serious, Dalton.”
“So am I. You want me to fund the whole program. I’ll fund it. You’ll never have to write another grant proposal. You’ll never have to go brownnosing for money again. All you have to do is let me talk to your grandmother.”
For a long moment, Laney stood there, frozen in the hall, considering his offer. The ticking clock on the wall seemed overly loud, giving the impression that she and Dalton were all alone in the school, even though Laney knew the other teachers must still be working in their classrooms.
She didn’t want to say yes. She didn’t want Dalton anywhere near her grandmother. She didn’t want him in her life at all. But the offer he was making her was far too tempting to walk away from.
It wasn’t even that she couldn’t resist the money he was offering. She could. Money was just… money. If funding got tight, she’d find a way to make it work. She always had in the past.
No, she couldn’t resist the offer because he’d made it so tempting. Not many people would walk away from that kind of promise. So if she did, it would look suspicious. A Cain would never understand someone turning down money. He’d want to know why she’d done it. He’d get curious. He’d start digging. And there were secrets she didn’t want him to know.
No, if he was going to be unearthing any skeletons from the past, they needed to be his father’s skeletons, not her grandmother’s. She needed to keep him focused on that mystery, even if it meant helping him.
“Okay.” She turned and started walking again, trusting that he’d catch up with her. “Let’s talk numbers.”
She heard the rhythm of his steps as he jogged a few steps and then fell in line beside her. “How much does it cost a year to run this program?”
“A hundred thousand dollars.” She threw out a number.
His pace faltered. “For thirty kids? You’re joking.”
“No. If you’re paying, then I’m giving myself a raise and hiring someone else to help.” This wasn’t actually about the money. She just wanted a number big enough to scare him off. “Besides, this way we can double enrollment.”
He placed a hand on her arm. “Hey, this isn’t a golden ticket, you know.”
“Are you sure? Because you sure made it sound like it was.”
Despite her resolve, she could hardly keep a quiver from her voice. It might be a cliché, but she felt like she was playing with fire here. As much as she wanted to believe it was about protecting her grandmother, or even about the money, she worried that it was something more—that she was looking for his
